


Second Chances

by Akiko_Natsuko



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Memories, Mind Manipulation, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-23 07:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16154897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: In a remote aid camp, Angela finds herself face to face with her past and the failure that has haunted her for years. However, Amélie hasn't come for revenge, but for help.





	Second Chances

   Angela fought back a yawn as she ticked off the last item on the list in front her, the inventory of supplies finally complete after no less than five interruptions that could have waited until morning in her opinion. However, her irritation at the delays paled in comparison to her dismay as she read through her list once more, her shoulders slumping as she realised just how low on supplies they were at this point, although the camp hadn’t had much when she’d arrived. She was going to have to get down on hands and knees and beg for what they needed…again. It was at times like this that she really missed Overwatch. It had been so easy back then to get what was needed, whereas now she had to argue until she was blue in the face just to get the most basic of things that were needed to keep this camp running and her patients alive.

      However, it was something that would have to wait until morning she realised as she glanced across at the clock on her desk, stunned to realise that it was past midnight. It would explain why she hadn’t been disturbed for the last hour or so, and why the camp around her was quiet apart from the odd murmur which must be the patrols passing by. Even now with the ceasefire in effect they didn’t dare abandon their watch, the peace was shaky at best and they all lived each day with the knowledge that bullets could start flying at any moment. It also explained her exhaustion, although she should’ve been used to long, unusual hours after all this time, as even during this period of peace, working hours had lost all meaning. She was always on call, and she had no idea when she’d last managed to sleep through the night without an emergency of some sort dragging her from her rest. Still, she needed to rest, especially as she was going to need her wits about her if she hoped to get even a quarter of the supplies she needed.

     Muttering under her breath, wondering if her superiors would change their minds about the supplies issue if they found themselves as her patient, she turned her attention back to the cases lying open over her desk and on the ground around it. Sliding the inventory into the top one, she set to work locking each case, making sure that there were no medicines left out on display, as she had learnt the hard way that they tended to walk if she didn’t lock them away. Part of it was people reluctant to trust a foreign doctor and choosing to tend their wounds themselves, however, some of it was people desperately taking and selling what they could just to earn a little extra money to survive on. She could understand their position, but each stolen medicine meant one less patient that she could treat properly and one more item that she would have to beg for, and so she was thorough in her efforts.

     She was just doing a last survey of the desk to make sure that she hadn’t missed anything in her exhaustion, her thoughts already half on her bunk when she heard the flaps of the tent being shoved open behind her. Looking up she saw the shadow of someone stepping inside, the lamp hanging in the middle of the tent swaying from side to side in the breeze before the flaps fell shut again, and she sighed as she heard quiet footsteps approaching her position. Another patient, at this time of night and it would probably be something else that could’ve waited until morning. As much as she wanted to sleep she couldn’t refuse them and she turned, attempting to paste a weary smile onto her face, only to freeze as she found not one of the locals or soldiers that she’d been expecting, but instead a hauntingly familiar face that she’d half-hoped to never see again.

“Widowmaker…” It came out as an anguished whisper, emotions that she had never fully managed to bury leaping to life at the sight of the other woman and yet she couldn’t bring herself to call her by her proper name. Even though part of her ached to, her fingers twitching for a moment as though to reach out to touch her, before she realised what she was doing and snatched it back, twisting around, eyes darting wildly as she searched for something…anything…to protect herself with. Finally, she spied her freshly cleaned surgical kit, and heart racing she snatched up the scalpel, all the while cursing herself for not keeping her sidearm with her. Ana would have scolded her if she was still here, and she closed her eyes for half a second, feeling more of the past threatening to rise and overwhelm her.

     She couldn’t remain like that for long, her eyes shooting open again as she heard Widowmaker moving, turning her attention back to her just in time to see the other woman take a couple steps forward, fingers tightening on her weapon. The blank amber eyes, so unlike the dancing ones she remembered were fixated on her, although they did flicker briefly to her hand, acknowledging the presence of the scalpel although she made no effort to disarm her.

“I never expected to find the great Angela Ziegler in a place like this.” The voice as just as she remembered it, highly-accented, mocking and yet not in the way the assassin had been in the long days following Gérard’s death when she had been taunting their efforts to get through to the ‘real Amélie’ and laughing at the idea that they could ‘fix’ her. Instead, it sounded closer to the gentle teasing that Angela remembered from before Amélie had captured, and in the days and weeks that had followed her rescue when they had grown closer and closer during her ‘rehabilitation’.

It hurts.

   Angela knows that she should shout for help whilst she can, although whether anyone could reach her in time was another question altogether. Or that she should try and escape, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to move. Instead she let her gaze rover over Widowmaker, lingering on the physical changes that had only become more pronounced since they’d last been face to face, and she can feel her mind beginning to race, trying to work out what had been done to her…what she’d become, and how it could be fixed, even as she desperately tried to remind herself that it was too late. That it had been too late from the moment they…she…had cleared Amélie to return to active duty after her abduction and set in motion the events that had put the first cracks in Overwatch’s foundations. It doesn’t stop her mind from working though, or the hope that makes her heart twist painfully.

    It takes her longer than it should to realise that Widowmaker doesn’t appear to be armed, or at least there’s no sign of a weapon and with the close-fitting nature of her bodysuit there are few places for her to hide anything. Not that it makes her any less dangerous, as Angela had seen her fight unarmed in the training ranges and she had even trained with her a few times after the Valkyrie suit had been deemed ready for deployment in the field.

   Still, it’s enough to let her take a moment to focus and catch her breath, to try and find her voice, and although her fingers still tremble as she clutches the scalpel tighter, her words when they come are surprisingly even. “I wanted to help people.” It was all she had ever wanted, ever since she had lost her parents and seen the devastation caused by war. It was why she had worked so hard to become one of the best in the field, it was why she had joined Overwatch and why she’d clung on to the very end despite the accusations and backlash. It was why she endured the long hours and having to beg for basic supplies now, and why she spent sleepless nights striving to do more when many would have caved and given into their need to rest. She wanted to help. She needed to help…and she hadn’t. Not when it had mattered the most, and she glanced down not wanting to let the other woman see the pain that she could feel written across her face.

She had failed.

Gérard had paid for it with his life.

And Amélie…

    Silence greeted her words, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up, even though her training was screaming at her to look at the threat. She wondered what Widowmaker was thinking. Was she even able to think for herself? Or was that something else that had been stolen from her? Did she retain any part of the woman that Angela had known, the one she had foolishly let herself develop feelings for? She could remember the afternoons spent in the infirmary as she worked with Amélie, treating her injuries and trying to coax the truth of what had happened out of her. It hadn’t taken long for them to start talking about other things, their conversations ranging from Angela’s work to Amélie’s love of ballet. Angela had used the chats to try and draw Amélie back into the present, to bring back the friend who’d been changed by everything that she had endured, whilst Amélie had taken to worrying about her, chiding her for not resting enough. Telling her that she couldn’t save everyone.

Neither of them had known how right she was.

“That’s why I’m here…”  The quiet words drew her back into the present and she stiffened, certain that she must have misheard, and slowly she lifted her head, finally daring to look at the other woman again. It felt like the air had been forced out of her as she found herself meeting pleading golden eyes, eyes that were no longer empty but blazing with a desperation that shook her to the core. She ached to chase that expression away even after everything that had happened, and it was harder than she wanted to admit remaining where she was, fingers clenched around the scalpel.

“Pardon?” _I misheard, I have to have misheard her…_

    She expected Widowmaker to look away, or for the shutters to come crashing down once more, but the other woman didn’t move apart from her hands which curled into fists at her sides, her voice little more than a whisper. “I need your help.”

“You need my help?” Angela demanded. _This can’t be happening._ It had nearly broken her when she’d realised how badly she’d failed Amélie, and the fact that she hadn’t been able to fix it, to bring her back had been a stain on her soul all this time. She had fought so hard, bearing the taunts, silence and empty gazes that had replaced the lively woman she loved. It hurt to hear her ask for help now. It confused her, and so she went with anger, trying to protect herself from the hope she could feel curling beneath everything else. “After all this time, you…”

“I remembered,” Widowmaker cut her off, voice soft and there was a distant look in her eyes, but not one that spoke of blankness and Angela found herself holding her breath, as emotion…real emotion played across the other woman’s face, too many for Angela to get a proper read on before Widowmaker met her gaze once more, shuddering as she sucked in a deep breath. “I remembered what he…what Gérard said to me before I…” Her voice cracked and broke, a sound that was almost a sob breaking through and Angela was fighting tooth and nail now against the urge to give in and go to her, but she forced herself to wait, sensing that Widowmaker still had more to say.

“H-he didn’t blame me.” Widowmaker whispered after a long moment, proving her right. “Right until the very end, till the moment when I…” The distant look had returned to her eyes and Angela knew that she was getting caught up in the past, shivering as she remembered the scene from that day, fingers twitching as she remembered how she had frantically felt for Gérard’s pulse as she tried to block out the sound of Amélie being dragged away. It was a memory that had haunted her for a long time, and as much as she knew that Widowmaker needed to remember, that she shouldn’t be allowed to forget what she had done, especially now that she seemed to be breaking through the emotionless barrier she had erected around herself, she couldn’t leave her trapped in the memory.

“Amélie…” She murmured.

“He told me that he knew that it wasn’t me,” Widowmaker whispered, looking at her once more, meeting her gaze and letting Angela glimpse the anguish in their depths. “He looked me in the eye, he reached for me…and even when he realised that I wasn’t going to stop.”

“What did he say?”

“He said, ‘if you can remember this moment, then I need you to know that I forgive you,’” She was trembling now, Angela realised, and her eyes were shimmering, as though she was only a few words away from weeping. “That it wasn’t my fault. Why?”

    Angela jolted at the desperate question, the bone-deep anguish in the single word making her eyes sting. The old Amélie would have understood…it was why she had never let herself act on whatever it had been that had been growing between them, even though she had held Angela close and whispered that if it had been another lifetime then…

“He loved you.” She wouldn’t hide from the truth. She hadn’t back then, and she wouldn’t now even though everything had changed.

“But…”

“Amélie.” The name came easier this time, softer, soothing and it silenced the protest, making Widowmaker, no… Amélie lift her head once more to meet her gaze. “You said that you needed my help?” There were too many things bubbling up, emotions that Angela wasn’t sure how to handle, memories that neither of them were ready to confront, it was easier to focus on the present, on what had brought Amélie to this remote part of the world.

On how she could atone for her failure.

“I…” Amélie hesitated, lifting her arms and beginning to rub at her arm, pinching and pulling at the blueish skin. “I can’t forget again. I won’t.” There was a fierceness behind those words, a determination that reminded Angela of a younger Amélie spending endless hours in the training ranges, determined to improve, to become better than her mentor. “I can’t return to Talon and pretend to be their…pet.” Amélie spat the last word, before taking a steadying breath and focusing on Angela once more. “But I’m afraid…what if the memories slip away again? What if the numbness comes back…?”

“Then…?”

“Please,” Amélie pleaded, and finally she moved, taking a trembling step forward and for half a second Angela’s fingers tensed against her weapon, unable to forget the past as easily as she would like. “Help me…help me become human again, help me to hold onto these memories.” The words were coming faster now, falling in a rush as though Amélie was frightened that if she stopped then they would never be said, her voice climbing higher and higher.

    Angela hesitated for a moment longer. She wanted to help, even though part of her feared that it was too late, that no matter how hard they fought, this brief flash of humanity would be just that a flash…a tempting glimpse of what could have been. Yet at the same time she was terrified, not of Talon although she knew they were a very real threat, especially if they decided they wanted to reclaim their ‘asset’ but it was more than that, if she failed again…

“Angela…” Amélie drew her out of her racing thoughts, and her heart ached at the defeat she could see in the other woman’s features as she stumbled backwards, arms rising defensively in front of her as she fought to contain the unfamiliar emotions flooding her. “It’s all right, I shouldn’t have asked…” She was losing the battle, her expression crumpling as the last traces of Widowmaker’s blankness shattered, a sob wracking her as she added. “I know that I’m a m-monster,” with that last, broken word she fell, falling to her knees with an anguished noise and just before she buried her head in her hands Angela caught a glimpse of the tears streaking down her cheeks and her breath caught.

Amélie hadn’t wept after she’d killed her husband. She’d been blank. Empty.

    Just as she had been ever since, and yet the woman in front of her was anything but. This was the Amélie that she knew. The Amélie that she had fallen for, whose memory she had cherished and mourned. _‘Sometimes there are no second chances,’_ Ana’s words from back then echoed in her mind, they had been offered in comfort back then when Angela had been at the breaking point over her inability to bring Amélie back, but now… _Maybe,_ she told the memory of her old friend as she slowly turned and set the scalpel back on the table. _And sometimes there are second chances,_ she added as she turned back to Amélie and finally took a step forward.

    It only took a couple of steps to reach her, and yet it felt much further, and Angela was trembling as she knelt in front of Amélie and yet her hands when she reached out were steady. She hesitated, fingers just shy of touching the other woman. This was a defining moment. If she did this, if she reached out and tried to embrace that second chance there would be no going back. No matter what happened she would be tied to Amélie once more.

It wasn’t a choice.

    They both jolted as she grasped Amélie’s shoulders, squeezing lightly until the other woman gave in and lifted her head to look at her, staring at her with wide-eyes, tears still making their way down her cheeks. Angela tried to smile reassuringly, sniffling herself as she lifted one hand to wipe at the tears, unsurprised when they were promptly replaced with more. “A monster wouldn’t be crying as they pleaded for help,” she murmured, pulling Amélie close and feeling her stiffen at the sudden contact although she made no effort to pull away. “You’re not a monster, Amélie…and…” She paused, swallowing nervously before her next words, knowing that there would be no going back after them.  “I promise, I won’t let you become one.”

_I will help you keep your humanity, no matter what it takes…._

 


End file.
